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‘One cannot accuse our king of tightfistedness,’ said Gawain drily.
‘Do you like him?’ asked Beth in a low voice.
‘What is there not to like?’ parried Gawain.
Beth would have argued that was not a proper answer, but Gawain had turned away now and was talking to one of the guards. Once inside, it struck her that he knew a lot of people as he spoke to several of those there. ‘How will you find the Cardinal in this great edifice?’ she asked, glancing about her at the luxurious fittings and the profusion of golden ornaments.
‘A messenger has been sent to inform him that I seek an audience with him.’
‘Then you know for certain that Wolsey is here,’ she said, her fingers reaching for Gawain’s sleeve as he led the way to a bench, flanked by flowering shrubs in pots.
‘Aye, it is not unusual for him to work from dawn to dusk on the king’s behalf whilst his Majesty and his court enjoy themselves.’
She nodded, having heard it was so from Jonathan, who’d had acquaintances at court.
Gawain was soon summoned to the Cardinal’s presence. His dark blue eyes held Beth’s for a moment. ‘Do not fret. You are safer here than alone in your father’s tent. Only a lackwit would risk harming you with so many witnesses present.’
Beth nodded, wondering why he should think anyone should want to harm her. She carefully arranged her skirts as she sat down and watched him cross the sunlit space with a loose-limbed stride until he was out of sight. Then she freed a pent-up breath and prepared for what she guessed could be a long wait.
The time passed slowly and she was seized again by that sense of unreality. She felt set apart from the folk who came and went in colourful costumes, like so many peacocks, jays and magpies, chattering and shrieking with laughter. Now and then she was aware of glances being cast her way and wished that Sir Gawain would return. There were questions she wanted to ask him, such as why he should have even mentioned his being considered a suspect? Could it be possible that he had cause to want her left all alone in the world so that she might depend on him? Well, he was mistaken if he thought that was so because she could look after herself. She rose and crossed to one of the windows and gazed out on the courtyard where the fountains of wine flowed freely. Some people had already imbibed too much and were staggering about and carousing in voices that made her wince.
‘Mistress Llewellyn,’ said a voice behind her.
She turned swiftly, surprised by the strength in the surge of relief she felt, collided into Sir Gawain and was knocked off balance.
‘Careful,’ he murmured, fighting against the sensations caused by the swell of her breasts against him. He found himself imagining their pale softness with their rosy peaks and forced himself to hold her off at arm’s length. Beth Llewellyn’s father had deemed him her protector; until he found her a husband, that meant he must keep faith, whatever temptation she put in his path.
Chapter Two
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Gawain, seizing Beth’s hand and hurrying her towards the outer door.
Beth thought he looked grim and her heart sank. ‘What—what happened? Did the Cardinal suspect that I am responsible for my father’s death and will not agree to my leaving France?’
‘Why do you think I should have put such thoughts into his head?’ said Gawain, glancing down at her pale face. ‘Is it that you overheard my conversation with your father that day we met in London?’
‘No!’ she cried, tripping over her hem in an attempt to keep up with him. ‘Please, of your courtesy, Sir Gawain, if you would just slow down! Your legs are so much longer than mine and I cannot keep up with you.’
Gawain begged her pardon and attempted to set his pace to match hers. It was not easy and he was impatient to reach his tent, hoping he would find his man, Tom Cobtree, there. He must not be alone with her.
‘Why do you ask about your conversation with my father and where are you taking me?’ she demanded.
‘To my tent. If fortune is with me, then my man will have returned and we will have something to eat and drink.’
‘What of my servants?’ asked Beth. ‘And will you tell me exactly what passed between you and the Cardinal, as well as my father?’
‘I told the Cardinal the facts and deemed it necessary to inform him of my suspicions concerning your brother’s so-called accident.’
Beth took a deep breath. ‘My brother’s so-called accident! Are you saying that Jonathan’s accident was no accident?’
‘Did your father not speak of it to you? Despite his reluctance to do so, I had hoped that he might have done,’ said Gawain.
Beth stopped in her tracks. ‘He has not spoken of it to me. Are you telling me now that my brother was murdered?’
‘I suspect it was so,’ said Gawain.
‘I don’t understand,’ she cried. ‘And how is it that my father should have involved you in the matter?’
‘If you’ll allow me to answer one question at a time, Mistress Llewellyn, instead of throwing them at me like spears, I will endeavour to do so.’
‘Likening my questions to spears is an odd way of referring to two simple questions,’ she retorted.
‘I felt you were suddenly beginning to regard me as your enemy. Your voice was getting shrill.’
‘My voice is not shrill,’ she denied.
A smile eased up the corners of his mouth. ‘It was certainly not dovelike, but let us not quarrel, Mistress Llewellyn.’
That unexpected smile did strange things to her and she found herself answering it with one of her own. ‘All right, I will calm down, but you must understand how difficult all this is for me.’
‘Of course I understand,’ said Gawain, his smile fading. ‘I will answer your first question. I had the boat your brother purchased raised and dragged ashore at low tide. Holes had been drilled into the hull.’
‘What!’ She was aghast. ‘Who would do this and how did Jonathan not spot the damage?’
‘I can only believe that the plugs were loosely put back into place; once it was afloat, the water forced them out. I had recently taken charge of the yard where the boat was built and your father came to me in great distress, searching for answers to why a newly made boat should sink.’
Beth was hurt that her father had kept such important information from her. When he had introduced her to Sir Gawain back in London, she had believed him to be just a new customer. ‘So you are a boat builder, as well as a knight,’ she said.
‘I am no boat builder. I own land in Kent where I rear sheep, as well as a whole swathe of forest on the Weald. I supply timber to several ship- and boat-building yards at Smallhythe and Greenwich.’
‘Does the king not have a palace at Greenwich?’
‘Aye. He takes a great interest in shipbuilding, as did his father. He is building a navy and that is how I came to Henry’s notice,’ said Gawain. ‘But we are digressing. Your brother …’ He paused.
‘I don’t understand. Why should a boat builder hold a grudge against Jonathan?’ Her voice shook.
Gawain raised an eyebrow. ‘We have no reason to suspect that the craftsman who built the boat killed your brother. Anyone with a knowledge of boats would be quite capable of drilling holes in the bottom. Maybe your brother wronged a shipwright’s wife and he was intent on revenge.’
‘Jonathan could be very cavalier in his treatment of my sex, but he would not seduce another man’s wife,’ she said firmly.
Gawain stared at her thoughtfully. ‘How can you be so sure?’
She returned his stare. ‘I knew him well and it was not in his nature to seduce a married woman. You will just have to take my word for it.’
He nodded slowly. ‘I will do so unless I discover you are wrong.’
She hesitated. ‘All right, I accept that because you didn’t know him. Anyway this is not helping us discover who killed my father.’
‘It could be that he had an inkling of who might have done away with Jonathan and he made the mistake of confronting the person he suspected.’
‘I—I see.’ She was silent a moment and then her eyes widened suddenly. ‘Do you think my father could have been killed by a religious fanatic?’
He marvelled at the way her mind so quickly grasped hold of possibilities. ‘It has occurred to me that he might have been involved in printing some of the teachings of the heretic Martin Luther,’ he said cautiously.
‘Father was religious, but Jonathan was not. And I cannot believe that Father would be so foolish as to become involved in such a dangerous activity.’
‘People can behave out of character when they strongly believe in something. Especially when they are grieving and deeply disturbed in their minds.’
She had a strange feeling that he was not only referring to her father, but someone else he knew, and wondered who it could be. ‘That could easily apply to the murderer, too,’ she said, moistening her lips that suddenly felt dry. ‘If so, they could have a grudge against my family and I could be their next target.’
Gawain hesitated before saying, ‘It is possible, but I gave my word to your father that I would take care of you if aught were to happen to him and I will do so.’
She gasped. ‘Why should you make such a promise to my father when you were barely acquainted? What did he offer you?’ she demanded suspiciously.
Gawain knew that the moment had come to tell her the truth. ‘Shares in his business, but that is neither here nor there as I am not a poor man, Mistress Llewellyn. No doubt what I am about to say will vex you, but on your father’s death I became your legal guardian.’
She was taken aback. ‘Why should he ask you to do that? There were other people he could have asked. His lawyer and man of business, for instance.’
The muscles of his handsome face tightened. ‘I asked your father that same question. It might seem strange to you, but he trusted me. I refused at first, for I did not wish to be burdened with finding you a spouse but he persisted.’
‘But I do not wish to marry,’ blurted out Beth.
‘So your father told me and frankly I do not believe it,’ said Gawain with a shake of the head. ‘Especially now your reason no longer exists.’
An angry sparkle lit her eyes. ‘You are mistaken. I presume he will have left his business to me, so there is naught preventing me from taking control of it when I return to London. I will be able to support myself financially, so I have no need of a husband.’
‘Impossible,’ he stated, coming to halt outside his tent. ‘It was your father’s wish that you marry and you will do so. Nothing you say will persuade me otherwise. Now inside before you attract even more attention to yourself than you have already done.’ He untied the flap and drew it back and ushered her inside.
‘I—I will not s-stay here with you! I will not marry you!’ She flung the words at him, making a bolt for the tent entrance, wondering whether Sir Gawain had designs on her himself and if he wished to have complete control over her, having killed her brother and her father?
Gawain seized hold of her and swung her against him. ‘Where did you get that crazy notion from? I already have a wife, so do not be thinking me responsible for your father’s death in order to get my hands on his business through you.’
Beth was stunned. ‘A wife! You have a wife? Where is she? Is she here with you?’
A flush darkened his cheeks because he knew that he was going to have to lie to her. ‘It really is none of your business, but, if you must know, she is tending an elderly sick aunt back home in England.’
‘I—I see,’ said Beth, wondering why she was having difficulty visualising him as another woman’s husband. After all, he was handsome and strong, extremely attractive and possessed land and money. ‘May I sit down?’ she asked abruptly, her knees giving way.
He seized her arm and pulled forwards a stool. ‘Naturally you are upset by the thought of having to obey a man who is almost a complete stranger to you, but it was your father’s wish.’
She clenched her fists. ‘It was wrong of Father to make arrangements for my future without discussing it with me. Why could he not treat me as he would have Jonathan?’
‘I am sure you know the answer to that,’ said Gawain, pouring wine from a barrel into a pitcher. ‘You are not stupid.’
‘Aye, because I am a daughter and not a son,’ she said bitterly.
‘Perhaps he also knew you well enough to know that you would argue with him if he told you the truth.’
She jerked up her head and glared at him. ‘As I will argue with you. Do not think I will fall in with your desire to get me out of the way. I will not marry and become some man’s possession, having no say in my own business.’
He said calmly, ‘We do not need to discuss this now. Will you take a cup of wine, Mistress Llewellyn, and some bread and cheese? It is all I can offer you at the moment.’
The calmness of his manner frustrated her because she so wanted to vent her hurt and anger on someone. ‘You said earlier that you came to the notice of the king. Why do you not eat at Henry’s table?’ she muttered.
‘If you must know, I’ve had a surfeit of rich food since I’ve been here. Besides, those who fawn around the king these days are not to my liking. When I was at court it was because I had trained as one of the king’s Gentlemen of the Spears, his élite mounted bodyguard.’
‘Then what were you doing wrestling half-naked if you held such a position?’ she asked.
‘I used to wrestle with Henry but now I cannot.’ He glowered at her.
‘Why not? Because you would defeat him and the king is not a man to suffer defeat lightly?’ she surprised him by saying.
Gawain shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t admit that, but the truth is that whilst fighting here in France a few years ago, my shoulder was dislocated. Now the joint has a habit of coming out of its socket when put unduly under stress and the pain can be debilitating. It does not happen often, but enough to embarrass me in front of my king and peers. Besides, I could no longer be relied on to defend the king if he were in danger, so I had to beg leave to resign from my position.’
‘That must have been very upsetting for you,’ said Beth, struggling with conflicting emotions. ‘You must miss the life of a warrior.’
‘Hardly that of a real warrior,’ he said stiffly. ‘Although life at court could be amusing, as well as exciting. As it is, Henry summons me to play board games or dice with him. He is an inveterate gambler and I have some skill.’
‘That is why are you here now? He invited you to play with him?’
Gawain nodded. ‘And there is no need for you to tell me that I should not be performing at the lists or wrestling with my disability. I have a wife to tell me that,’ he added harshly.
‘Is that the real reason why she is not here?’ asked Beth. ‘Because of your male pride being hurt? That is foolish.’
He handed a cup of wine to her. ‘How well you understand me, Mistress Llewellyn,’ he said sardonically.
‘By St George, you took a risk,’ she said, taking a sip of wine.
Their eyes met. ‘You would say that pride comes before a fall, but I say a man needs his pride,’ said Gawain.
‘He could have flattened you,’ said Beth. ‘But I admit I found it admirable that you were able to throw that Breton wrestler.’
He shrugged and winced, determined not to show the pleasure her remark gave him. ‘Shall we change the subject?’
She nodded, curious to know more about him. ‘Tell me about your wife. Have you children?’
Gawain gazed into her attractive little face that was alight with interest. He imagined how her expression would change if he told the truth—that Mary had deserted him, taking their daughters with her. It would perhaps give Beth more reason to be against marriage. Of course, he could have told her how he had spent weeks searching for them, believing that his wife’s wits were deranged after the loss of their son, fearing for the girls’ safety and that of their mother. This had been after Mary’s father’s death when Gawain had taken on new responsibilities. Then he had struck lucky or so he had thought, only to discover that Mary had made a cuckold of him and when he had rode to the place where she had been observed, it was too late. She had vanished again. Then the king had summoned him to court and he’d had no choice but to abandon his search.
‘I have two daughters: Lydia, who has seen seven summers, and Tabitha, who is three years old.’ He found it too painful still to mention the loss of his son to her, but added swiftly, ‘More recently I’ve been sorting out my father-in-law’s affairs. He died a year ago and left it to me to rescue his ailing boat-building yard. I have hopes that in a few years it will be prosperous again.’
Beth frowned. ‘You have enough matters of your own to sort out as it is without being bothered with mine. Why do you not allow me to handle my own affairs?’
Gawain was tempted to agree, but found himself saying, ‘I made a promise to your father that I would find you a husband. His dearest wish was that you provided him with a grandson.’
‘A grandson!’ This was news, indeed, to Beth and it angered and hurt her further. ‘A daughter was not good enough for him,’ she added in a trembling voice. ‘Only a male offspring will do.’
Gawain paused in the act of setting the table. ‘You must forgive him. It is natural for a man to want a son to carry on his name. No doubt your father had it in mind for you to marry someone who understood the printing- and book-selling business, but perhaps it would be wiser to sell it, so as to provide you with a substantial dowry to attract a gentleman so you would not be forever thinking of printing and books.’
‘No! It cannot be sold,’ she cried, starting to her feet and spilling a little wine on her gown. ‘If I have a son, then he will inherit and carry on with my work.’
